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We pull to a stop at the end of the long parking lot. The house looms over us, over the whole neighborhood where it sits on an oceanside promontory. It’s classic, perhaps a hundred years old, with updated paint, and three gables. What little I can see of the backyard from here is grass, flowered bushes, and sunshine.
It’s the perfect place for a wedding.
I unclip my belt and twist in my seat. “I’ll tell him. I promise.” Then I lean in and kiss her blues away. When I pull back, she’s smiling again. “For now, let’s go see where we’re getting fake married.”
We get out and head down the path where a staircase brings us up to the gigantic front door, which would be intimidating if it wasn’t so awe-inspiring with its wood and stained-glass finish and see-through windows flanking it on both sides. The door even has an honest-to-goodness wooden knocker in the shape of a sunburst.
When Chloe uses it, the knock reverberates through the cavernous foyer that’s visible through the windows.
It takes several long moments, but then Greta is there in her sweater and pressed trousers. And she does not look happy to see us. “What are you doing here?”
Chloe looks at me, frowns. “I’m Chloe Marie and this—”
“I know who you are. But why are you here?”
“Did I get the time for our meeting wrong?” Pulling her phone from her purse, Chloe begins flipping through her calendar. But no, Greta said Tuesday at four. Even I remember that.
Greta sighs, leaning against the door frame that completely dwarfs her short stature. “Didn’t you get my voicemail?”
“N-no.”
“Hmm. That’s odd. I know I left one.” Greta waves her hand through the air, dismissing the notion. “Regardless, I told you I had to cancel our appointment because termites were discovered here. I thought you were the exterminators coming to tent the place.”
“Wait. What?” Chloe tugs at a piece of her hair. “O-okay. Well, when can we come back?”
“Do you have cotton for brains, girl? You can’t have the wedding here. The tenting and fumigation process takes time, and the house won’t be ready for this weekend.” Then she has the decency to look chagrined. “I am sorry. It all happened so suddenly. But you can’t let termites go on. Once you discover them, you need to act quickly. I have to protect my home.”
“Of course.” Chloe’s chin trembles but somehow she manages a smile. “Well, thank you for your consideration and t-time.”
I’ve got to get her out of here before she breaks down. “Thank you, Mrs. Graber.”
“Yes, well.”
We turn to go, but Greta calls back to us. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a nice couple. I hope you find somewhere to tie the knot.”
I offer a small smile and a wave, then place a hand around Chloe’s waist and help her back to the car, where she turns into me and starts to cry.
“Shh, love.” I tuck her head under my chin, run my hands up and down her back. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right, Frederick. Don’t you know what this means?” Her makeup is already smudged under her eyes—and on my white shirt. Not that I care. “We don’t have a place for Topher and Lauren to get married.”
“Then we’ll find one.”
“There isn’t one! Remember? We were lucky to find the Graber house. And now …” She stomps her foot and lets out a frustrated, muted squeal. “Everything’s ruined. I … I failed. I failed them, Freddy.”
And I can’t take the breaking in her voice. I hold her by the shoulders and wait until she’s looking at me. “You have not failed yet. And you’re not going to fail. And do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because you’re Chloe Huntington.”
“That means nothing here.”
“It meanseverything.” I emphasize the last word. “You might not have an answer, and I certainly don’t, but what did you do before when you needed to find a venue?”
She shrugs. “I asked the locals for help.”
“Exactly. And that’s what you’re going to do again.”
